Slowly and Then All at Once
by Clear Night Sky
Summary: A year since the passing of her beloved Augustus, Hazel updates us on recent happenings and takes her first step into their literal infinity. Just a short drabble I thought of this morning. I was considering maybe doing a follow on chapter to this and if anyone would like me to please let me know, thanks to anyone at all who's reading!


Disclaimer: It's the most unfortunate thing in the world that I do not own these characters or their story; that's all John Green's wonderful creation, this is if anything a homage to that awesome genius

Someone wise (or as I often put it, just exceeded the expectations of someone that good looking) once told me 'the world is not a wish granting factory', that someone happened to be the star crossed love of my life, namely one Augustus Waters and he, about a year ago had unfortunately stopped gracing the world with his eloquent and frankly, downright beautiful presence and the world had acquired an Augustus shaped hole in the process, which neither his family, my family, his best friend Isaac or I took much of a liking to.

Since my one great love's tragic departure, my life hadn't gotten much easier (Mom was still convinced I was depressed) but I carried on, I took classes, went to Support Group and listened to Patrick's ball story for what seemed like the billionth time, I went out with Kaitlyn (sometimes joined by whichever boy she was dating at the time) and I saw Isaac quite a lot, I mean, despite the fact this sentence probably belongs on a Waters throw pillow, I guess Isaac and I kind of had a special bond in that we were the two people he especially cared about, we talked about him often during our video game tournaments, we both agreed that a world without Augustus Waters, to paraphrase a word that Isaac often uses: Sucked.

Oh and Peter Van Houten wrote another book, it wasn't the sequel that I'd hoped for but it was about a pair of star crossed lovers on vacation in a magical city. Is it me or does that sound familiar? But he'd sobered up, he'd taken my advice and went back to Amsterdam and started writing again, I think with Augustus' death and my various bursts of frustration at him it was the final straw and he'd straightened himself out finally. And although I'd never know what happened to those beloved characters whose continued stories I was so transfixed on finding out, I decided that it was okay, that it was something to be left to the imagination and that was fine by me, Peter Van Houten had offered to tell me on numerous occasions -we emailed back and forth, he'd started emailing by himself and opening the nineteen years' worth of fan mail, wonders never cease- but I thought if their fate was left wide open it was still kind of disappointing but not as disappointing as it had been, it was okay.

Sometimes when I lay in bed, just listening to the low hum of the BiPAP a quote from one of his emails crosses my mind: "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves." Now as brilliant as Shakespeare can be, I'm not entirely sure that I am in full agreement of that statement; do we ask to have things happen to us? No, they just happen without warning and that is how life goes, when something that we have no control over happens and the outcome isn't generally positive I believe the fault is indeed in our stars, not in ourselves. It wasn't Gus' fault that he was now, no doubt whatsoever, wearing that crooked smile with that metaphorical cigarette dangling from the corner that wasn't smiling, outwitting whoever was in the place he once referred to as Something with a capital S, even the notion of that made me miss him more. What I wouldn't give for another exchange of Okays. What happened to him happens to 20% and it was by no means his fault, I'd come to decide over time that we weren't side effects, what happened to us was the side effect, just a few attention seeking cells going "Hello, I'm here! Notice me!" and making their presence known. That's all it was.

And in that year I'd slipped away too, my lungs were letting go after all the false alarms and amidst my mom clutching my hand, just talking to me as if she was saying goodnight and my dad stroking my hair softly and sobbing, they were both whispering 'I love you's' barely audibly and as my numbers ran out the whispers became mimes, the bright hospital room darkening before my very eyes, the light becoming dimmer and dimmer by the second and just like you turn off a light switch, in that instant I was gone. I fell asleep just as I had fallen in love: slowly and then all at once.

The next time I opened my eyes I was in a familiar surrounding with the most unfamiliar feeling, I looked down at there was not a tube in sight, not a single one, no BiPAP, no Phillip, nothing. And for the first time since I can remember, my lungs did not feel in the slightest bit crap, if anything they felt abnormally serene, the rhythm of steady breath was almost like music to my ears. What was on my body though was the Oranjee outfit, everything was the exact same from the dress to the Mary Janes. Taking one steady breath in, I closed my eyes, the scent of the air hitting me, I could only think of one place on earth where the scent was as rich and glorious and in my train of thought a seed felt onto my shoulder just as it had at Oranjee, I see a pattern emerging here. I walked slightly forward feeling so light, with nothing attached to me I felt so free, part of me wanted to run around like a five year old but I settled with walking at an adult pace across that street over to our table, it was set out exactly as it had been the night we tasted the stars, with the same flutes of champagne resting and bubbling like two overexcited children, the view of the canal nothing short of stunningly poetic, everything just as it had been that night, except one thing.

"Happy one year anniversary Hazel Grace."

And there he is.


End file.
